


The suicide run: locked and loaded

by Ejunkiet



Series: The Reunion series [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action, Drama, F/M, Reunion series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/Ejunkiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Joker. We're locked and loaded. Make ready for pick up. Ground team, get moving." The suicide run, continuation of the Reunion Series. A near-miss (or two) provided her with the kick she needed to realise the depth of her feelings for Garrus Vakarian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

### Locked and loaded

Payback had never felt so good. The flickering hologram of the Illusive man faded from view, the darkness in its wake replaced by half remembered faces from one of her first postings in unchartered Alliance space, and it was for her lost crew on a shitty planet riddled with maws that she punched in the code for detonation.

The _‘Collectors’_ , Cerberus and the Illusive Man’s desire for power - they would all burn with this ship. She may have been rebuilt as a weapon - but she would be Earth’s weapon, the galaxy's tool - and she would fight until either she, or the Reapers, were dead.

Joker’s voice crackled over the com, his voice strained over the rumble as another explosion rocked the ship, sending the platform beneath their feet lurching to the side. " _Come on,_ Commander... I don't know what you did, but this thing is breaking up!"

Raising a hand, she flicked her ear piece, right about where the voice capture was located. A brief period of silence was broken by a short _'ow'_ , and she muffled a snort as curses echoed down the line.

"Cool down, Joker." An expletive, that she would be hard pressed to define if questioned, was her response, before he cut out with an unnecessarily loud click.

"...Well. Now that you've also managed to 'piss off' our ride, should we get going? Or do you want to urinate on that reaper husk too, or whatever it is that you humans do?"

Garrus' voice was a long, slow drawl, clearly enjoying himself at her expense. Outwardly, his demeanor was calm and professional, if not edged with a hint of tension that sent him shifting from foot to foot, toying with the rifle in his grip. The sight of his casual stance, relaxed amidst all _this_ , released the fluttering sense of giddiness that had been rising in her chest. 

She laughed, and his mandibles relaxed into his version of a smile, fluttering lightly against his jaw. Smiling, she remembered how they were soft to the touch; smoother than she would have thought, and her thoughts went back six hours, to memories of feather light touches, and a friction that made her skin burn-

_"...mander... Commander! Hello?!"_

Her communicator crackled to life in her ear, demanding and almost painfully loud, and her eyes flew to the corner of her visor, focusing on the time - their time - to see that the detonation counter had just started. _Jesus, Shepard_. This was not the time to lose focus. The strength of feeling that flooded her was nearly overwhelming- this was different- _and it almost terrified her_ \- but she didn't have the time to sort through her emotions now. Her hand dropped to her side, clenching into a fist, before she faced her team.

"Keep your hat on, Joker. We're locked and loaded." Soft laughter broke out from her other side, and she sent a smile at the glittering eyes of her commander in-chief. "Make ready for pick up. Ground team, get moving."

\---------

Shards of metal and dust crashed down around them as the whole structure shook, the metal wailing beneath their feet, before the platform they were standing on tilted sharply to the side, her stomach lurching as the ship’s internal gravity began to fail. Dropping her hand from her ear, she braced herself against a short metal support, steadying herself as the platform swayed- and watched helplessly as the situation swiftly descended into hell.

With another lurching creak, the platform opposite – the one where her friend sat hunched, three fingered grip clutching tightly at a rusted container to steady him, as he secured his gun to his back with the other – was dislodged from the set, dropping rapidly backwards as she pushed off from her mooring post and broke into a run.

He was out of sight before she had made five steps, metal hissing in her ear before her platform followed, and she caught sight of him again, armor glittering in the light of an explosion, gauntlets clawing ineffectually at the sheer metal.

Her heart thundered in her chest, taking her breath away, and she was skidding down the metal slope, rapidly punching the keys of omnitool to activate the gravity locks on her boots just before she reached the end of the first platform, just as the glittering metallic blur sped towards the edge of the second.

The magnetic locks clicked on the same minute his grip slipped over the side, and reaching, _grasping_ , both her hands wrapped around his wrists, just as her forward momentum was brought to an abrupt halt. Something cracked, loudly and painfully, within her chest, but she held tight; pulling with her natural and augmented strength and more, as Miranda fell into place beside her, grasping his elbow, and with a final, combined effort, they pulled the turian over the edge.

“Ground team secure! Wh-…” The communicator hissed, crackling in her ear as she collapsed backwards, distracted by the pain stabbing in her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. It felt - as if she had broken a rib, _somehow_ , despite the metal lattice that reinforced her tissues, and in better circumstances she might have been impressed- A three-clawed hand circled her waist, dragging her into a tight embrace, and she forgot the pain, her arms circling him to nestle in that place just before his armor met his undershirt. “… _ng hell are you guys?!_ ”

Warm breath brushed against her neck, bringing back images of the heated friction again, as rough lips brushed against her neck, and his growl was a strained rumble against her skin. _“That was unnecessarily reckless, Shepard.”_

“Did you really think I'd let you go?"

“ _Shepard?!_ Do you copy?”

The sharp-clipped note of a heel signaled the approach of her second in command, a delicate hand resting on her arm. “Commander. We need to get a move on.”

\----------

_"Make the jump, Shepard - come on!"_

\----------

He had her, but only just. Her upper torso was balanced precariously on the edge of the deck, the tight grip of encircled arms slipping uncontrollably against the sheer metal of his armor as her legs flailed over the side. There was another screech, barely audible above the explosions below, and she slid another inch from him, panic filling her expression - before another juddering shudder rocked their grip, and she began to fall. It all seemed to dissipate - the explosions, sound; anything but her gasp as she slipped, and without a pause, he was lunging after her, grasping a gauntlet and a shoulder guard before he skidded off the edge.

There was a cry behind him, a pair of smaller, human hands gripping his thigh, only just managing to halt his momentum, lurching her within his grip, and he hissed between his teeth.

_“A little help!”_

He heard a roar behind them, before another set of arms descended from above, dwarfing her wrists as three strong, gnarled fingers grasped her roughly, another set looping around his waist, before a sharp tug pulled them abruptly away from the precipice, falling backwards onto the rubble strewn floor of the airlock.

—-

He had her, a small, metal glove clutched tightly within his grip. His arms and legs were draped around her, holding her closely and securely within his arms as her muscles shuddered with the exertion. The entire frame of the Normandy was shuddering as they veered away from the cavernous maze of the metal behind them, racing the detonations that shook the base and, ultimately, the timed explosion that would destroy it. Her fingers interlocked with his, a steady pressure as her weight settled between his legs. It was a tight fit, and a little uncomfortable with the contrasting angles of their armor, sending their elbows colliding where there joints met, but with _this_ woman - comrade, _commander_ \- in his arms, Garrus found he couldn't spare a thought for the discomfort.

Another crash echoed loudly through the halls, followed by a rapid sequence of curses in all sorts of languages from the cockpit as the deck beneath them lurched. "Sorry, guys! Now would be a good time to brace yourselves, against something, anything, please and thank you." 

The sound of their armor, metal weave and carbon fibers colliding, surrounded them as he watched her, their eyes just about level, until with another sway - and another muffled curse that sounded remarkably like _fuck it -_ she was moving in his arms, facing him, touching his cheek, his scars. He leaned in close to meet her, ignoring the tight press of the bodies around them, as it only mattered that he _had her_ , warm and soft in his arms and _alive_. Their foreheads were close, and he took advantage of the moment, pressing forward until he could taste her, smooth and exotically strange against his tongue, in a way he had never expected would be enjoyable. It’s another experience to add to the list of those she has ruined him for, along with C-Sec and working for the council, and he couldn’t say it was a loss.

Her lips part, her tongue meeting his softly, before the pressure of her fingertips smooth along his plates, burying beneath his fringe, and he brings his arms up to grip her all the tighter, a low, rumbling purr escaping from somewhere deep within the confines of his chest. He would feel embarrassed later for the primal display - but he couldn’t find the space to care. Shepard was here, alive and in his arms, and they had done it. 

"That’s the third time I’ve thought I’ve lost you, Garrus. You need to give a girl a break."

He pushed forward, until her cheek was flush against his, and for the first time since they had left the ship, he felt the tension leave him, the tightness in his chest abating, and his mandibles relaxed into a small grin.

“It’ll take more than that to get rid of me, you know that.”

\---

_'ahem.'_

The light cough echoed through the small space within the shuttle, and she broke away with a small gasp, cheeks flushed underneath the layer of soot as she glanced around them for the first time, a small smile playing on her lips. "They'll talk, you know. Terrible gossips, this crew." 

She leaned tighter against him, her smile growing at the muffled snorts around them, and he released a small hum, his arms curling tighter around her waist. "So they talk."


	2. After the Relay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

**After the Omega four relay**  
Mass Effect two END

  
Her hand was clasped tightly around his, as it had been since they had fled the violent - and very nearly fatal – ruin that housed the grave of over a thousand souls. The echo of the explosions had finally stopped ringing in his ears, although he wasn't sure if his hearing would ever be the same. It didn't really matter to him at the moment with the weight of her gauntlet within his, the steady rhythm of her breathing beside him as she turned to watch the explosion, hair glistening in the reflection of the Normandy's mass effect field in the shuttle window. His eyes followed her line of gaze, losing focus within the flickering fluctuations of blue light.  
   
They had done the impossible. He'd even go as far to say that this made their quest to take down _Saren_ look like child's play. The reality of the embryonic Reaper was a brilliant and terrible thing, a terrific feat of alien intelligence and engineering that he suspected would haunt his dreams for years to come. And at great cost. When the details came out, the truth of what had happened here would rock the galaxy to its core. 

That knowledge brought it's own sense of vindication, in spite of everything. This was the proof that they had been searching for - the evidence for the Reaper threat behind the Collectors. They were coming. And when they did, they'd be ready. 

And that just left one question, one that had lingered since the hour before they entered the omega relay.  
   
Shepard.  
   
His eyes found her face again almost without him realizing it, tracing the familiar lines and scars in her soft features, before it dropped again to the way her fingers curled around his. Somewhere, it registered that this was action was more revealing than he had allowed himself to show thus far, that this belied the air of ‘casual’ and let her know just how much he liked it when she did that. The way her fingers tightened in response, curling in his grip as her gaze met his, soft in a way that he had only ever seen _once_ , gave him the impression that she already knew.


	3. Priority: Palaven

### Priority Palaven

 

“Shepard.”

His hand enclosed hers, gripping her forearm as his eyes flicked to hers, then past the loose circle of their company. Her fingers slipped from his, flipping over to twine through the thick fingers of his gloves, squeezing through the metal, tightening with equal force. A smile widened across her features, warming her eyes above smeared shadows that streaked across her dirt-stained features. Bruises, they were called. She looked tired, and battered - but  _alive._

There was a light cough from the general, who took a sharp step back mandibles flaring lightly as his glance flicked between him and the commander. Whatever question he had thought to voice went unsaid however, as his head tilted in deference, a begrudging acknowledgement of his authority. “Vakarian, sir. You know the commander.”

“He does.” Her eyes were amused as she watched the exchange, before she glanced him over, taking stock of him, eyeing his armor with exaggerated appraisal. “Niiiiiice armor. Good to see you’re not leaking anymore.”

She spoke softly, with a teasing note that confidently masked any exhaustion, and giving a small grin of his own, he responded in kind. “Not by choice. Orders. Sisters, it turns out, don't appreciate their estranged brothers running around in scratched armor.”

A brow rose at his word choice, her eyes gleaming for a short second, before the embrace was over, and they were drawing apart, settling back into their respective roles, and a quick glance to the side made him _acutely_ aware of where they were. A light blush, in a delicate hue of blue, had settled over the cheeks of their Asari friend - but if their other companions had gleaned anything further from the exchange, it wasn't obvious. Unlike _Liara_ , who sent a furtive glace his way, blinking rapidly as their eyes met, before quickly resolving to staring with abject fascination at her boots. He’d have to talk to her - sooner, rather than later.

His eyes glanced back to Shepard, to find her eyes on him - then she was straightening, claiming her role as commander easily as her jaw set, fingers circling the grip of her weapon.

“Alright, team. Lets go bag ourselves a Primarch.”


End file.
